The Ichor Spring
by LauraRoslinForever
Summary: "As the tales go, men that drink from an Ichor spring become consumed with fever. They call it fever of the Gods, because only the Gods could withstand the power of the dragon blood that fuels an Ichor spring... Once consumed, the water of an Ichor spring makes the person infected so aggressive that the only cure is to fight or… or to mate." Missing Year, OQ -SEQUEL ON HIATUS-
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: So hey here's another new story. It takes place during the Missing Year in my one-shot verse The Littlest Outlaw, which is not necessary to read this before but can be helpful. Should be two or three chapters, we'll see how it goes. Just a challenge story I got from a reader and this is the result. (And for everyone wondering where my other stories went, there is a link on my profile page to my website where you can find them.) Big thanks as always to Jacqueline, beta extraordinaire!_**

* * *

It all begins with a simple trip into the forest. A small hunting party consisting of himself, the Queen, the Prince, and two of his men, Tuck and Magnus, were undertaking a mission to find a type of ivy. It had a highly poisonous magical properties that both the Queen and the Blue Fairy felt could be used against the Wicked Witch. The Queen decided to lead party herself. She'd been met with resistance, both on his part and from the Princess Snow, but the Queen would hear nothing of it. She'd gotten her way, and with a reluctant sigh, Robin prepared himself for their journey ahead.

A day into their journey all he wants is a moment of peace and a drink. The forest is hot and humid, and as he wipes the sweat from his brow, he chances a glance back at her. She's silent. Irritated, he thinks, and he smirks, looking back ahead. She has been in a mood ever since Magnus decided to ask Tuck advice about a woman, and they talk in not so muted tones for two hours until finally the Queen calls for a halt in conversation, and in their search. Robin watches as she dismounts and stalks away by herself out into the densely packed trees.

Robin shares a look with the Prince, and he gives the man a nod. It's a silent communication passing between them, one they've developed during their time together whenever it involved protecting the Queen, and now, the Prince knows Robin will be following behind her. Keeping her safe.

He keeps his distance, makes sure to give her her privacy, her space. He wanders over to a small spring, sighing in relief, and taking his canteen from where it's been tied to his side, and fills it just enough to get a good long drink. The water is ice cold, and it surprises him pleasantly. For such a hot day, he had not expected it to be so cold. It's a relief and incredibly refreshing. It has him craving more, so that he fills it again for another drink and once that's done, he fills it to the brim.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Robin stands and turns too quickly. She's close, much too close, and he grabs her by the shoulders, then they stumble backwards and he almost knocks them down in the process. "Your Majesty, I - " A red flush spreads over his features. For a moment her nearness nearly overwhelms him, then she bites out a _Get your hands off me!,_ and it's then he manages to regain his equilibrium. "I was just getting a drink."

"Why are you following me?" He is about ready to argue, but apparently she doesn't feel up to a fight because she shakes her head, sighs, and says, "We need to get back." She snatches the canteen from his hand and takes a drink for herself. Robin watches as her eyes close, and a drop of water slips from the side of the canteen, and runs from her mouth, traveling down, down her long, slim neck and begins a path down her chest. He finds he cannot look away from its path, and then a vague feeling of dizziness settles in him.

She finishes and then his canteen is pushed roughly back into his hands. "I suppose you do have your uses."

With that she leaves him standing there staring after her. He gives himself a moment, to admire the view. She's shed her riding jacket, and he takes in the sight of her lovely backside as she walks away from him. Robin heaves a heavy sigh, _perhaps one day_ , he thinks, and shaking his head, he tries to turn his thoughts back to the matter of the ivy plant.

* * *

The incident with the Queen has faded to the back of his mind by the time they'd stopped a short while earlier, and are now shuffling their way down a steep rocky hill. It is exhilarating for a few minutes, until a branch gives way, and Tuck unceremoniously tumbles to the bottom of a ravine, breaking his arm. The Queen is severely annoyed, and in her ire orders Magnus and Tuck back up the hill, to see to his injuries and wait for them. Shrugging off her anger, they press onward.

"Regina, slow down." The Prince jogs up beside her.

"Can't you and the thief keep up?" she snaps, looks back to find Robin a good twenty paces behind. It annoys her that he isn't as fit as he appears. All those muscles might be damn attractive, but they aren't much use on a man who can't handle a bit of a stroll through the forest. Castle life has made him soft, she thinks, and snorts to herself ruefully.

"Are you feeling alright, Regina?"

She scoffs with a sideways look at Charming. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You look a little flushed."

He's right; she's been feeling uncommonly warm these last few minutes, and knows she can't blame it on the weather (which is somewhat nippy), or her level of fitness. Back in Storybrooke she'd always maintained her exercise regimen, and even with the clothes from the Enchanted Forest (which she'd simplified for the trip-the pretense of the Evil Queen and her wardrobe was too heavy and ostentatious, had always been, she had to admit, and she was not going to cater to that anymore), she knows she should not feel this hot. But she is not about to give him the satisfaction of admitting he might have a point.

"I'm fine. If I were you I'd worry about the one who can't seem to keep up." With that, she picks up her pace, leaving Charming standing to wait for Robin.

* * *

The Prince has been eying him for several minutes now, starting to say things and abruptly cutting off, and it is annoying Robin to no end. Finally he stops and folds his arms, and levels a look at the man. "What is it?"

"Do I need to worry about you, too?"

"Pardon?" An arched eyebrow expresses Robin's surprise at what was needling Charming.

"You look as bad as the Queen if not worse."

"It's nothing, It's just a bit hot out here."

The Prince's brow furrowed. "Huh, I thought it's gotten quite cool since the sun went down."

Robin blows out a heavy breath and wipes his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. How could the man think it was cool? He was bloody warm, and he starts to say as much but catches himself, and gives the Prince a once over and indeed, the man was now wearing his cloak looking completely comfortable and gazing at him in concern. He feels a bit out of sorts for sure, hot, intermittently dizzy and not quite himself. "I'm sure it's nothing…"

"Are you two going to stand around talking all day or can we get on with this?" The Queen's voice cuts through the air sharply, and Robin catches a note in there he hasn't heard before. It is unsettling, and he can't quite say why.

"We're coming," the Prince replies, and Robin sighs and follows him along the path.

* * *

The following morning it's early morning yet, and a breeze that blows through the forest should be a Godsend. Should make this _heat_ he's feeling abate, if not feel like an outright relief, but it isn't. His skin still feels hot, sweat still drips from his brow and down his back as he follows behind the Queen. She's huffing her way through the thick trees and foliage, he can't really complain of her quick pace, even as out of breath as he is because it's giving his mind a reprieve from his other thoughts. Thoughts that involve running his fingers through the long dark locks which are now beginning to fall from the updo of a certain Queen. Thoughts where he imagines untying that blood red corset that's been taunting him for the past two days, taking handfulls of that leather clad arse hoisting her up against him and… A sudden cry of pain, snaps Robin from his fantasies, and he rushes forward.

Regina has stopped not far ahead and is cradling her hand. He doesn't think about what he's doing before he reaches for her attempting to make out the damage. "What happened?"

As his hand makes contact with hers, she hisses pulling it back from his grasp. "It's just a scratch."

Scratch or not, he can tell she's exhausted, her chest rising and falling with every labored breath, and he suggests, "Your Majesty, maybe we should rest for a while?"

His concern for her earns him a roll of her eyes, and he bites his tongue as she replies, "We've already wasted enough time."

"Regina, something is amiss here, and we both know it."

"Oh?" she taunts. "And what exactly is that?"

"You're far too flushed to account for the walking we've done," Robin says, coming up in front of Regina and peering at her in the early morning light. Her night had been restless, full of strange dreams, and in spite of the chilly evening, she'd thrown off her blanket and kept only her light traveling cloak over her. She'd splashed her face with water from the nearby stream upon waking, but apparently it had done little good, if the concern in his voice is any indication. His eyes roam her face, and she tries to hold herself still and _will_ her skin to cool down. His hand reaches for her forehead.

She starts forming a retort in her mind, but then his hand touches her face and she stills as her body reacts to the contact. The irritation she feels at his all too common rescuer routine is chased away by the electric caress of his fingers.

The slightly rough feel of his hand sends her pulse racing as everything but this connection between them fades away. His voice barely penetrates the fog that surrounds her mind.

"Regina, you're burning up." He presses his palm against her forehead, and his frown deepens, as if he doesn't appear happy with the results. He turns, calls out. "We need to return, the Queen is burning with fever."

Once his hand leaves her face, the ivy they've been in search of returns to her mind, and she tries to concentrate on finding it once again. She scoffs at Robin and pushes off her overwhelming attraction to him and starts to walk once again, in spite of Robin pulling Charming into a quiet but intense conversation.

Still, it's hard to ignore the rising ache deep within her, or the way her clothing sticks to her skin. All of her clothing feels too restrictive, the very air seems too thick to take a full breath.

A movement draws her gaze to Robin as he talks in hushed tones with Charming. She licks her lips, and moves further away from the pair. She needs to get away from him, she thinks because right now everything about him has her on edge. Regina bites back a groan. He's arguing the the Charming idiot, and damn her if she doesn't love his voice, loves the look of him in his element, the scruff of his face, his strong jaw, and the determination in those stormy blue eyes. Glancing back, she can make out the muscles in his back as he faces away from her. So often she has she longed to rub those broad shoulders; they were tense now, she can see, and his shirt, she finally notices, sticks to his skin in the same way hers does. From somewhere a voice in her mind whispers, " _Wouldn't it be so nice to massage the tension away and kiss his hot skin..."_

Regina shakes herself away from such a tempting fantasy, it's certainly not the first time she's had to do so, and with one more look in his direction, she turns and stalks further down the path. Not more than a quarter of a mile later, she stops suddenly, and off to the right she spots it. A cave where there is no mountain, in the midst of the eastern forest where legend says the poisonous ivy is said to grow. A smile pulls at her lips and she turns onto the path that leads down to the cavern.

* * *

When Robin finally tracks her down at the cave, she is unaccountably annoyed. Yes, the two men really should trust that she is able to take care of herself, but the flare of anger surprises her with its intensity when he practically barks, "What _are_ you doing?"

She scowls at him and folds her arms.

"What do you think I'm doing, sightseeing? I found the cave we were looking for, and it looks like the ivy is also in there." And it is quite a bit cooler inside, she has noticed. She feels that her shirt is sticking to her, again. Why was she so hot?

Robin steps towards her, his jaw tight.

"You shouldn't go somewhere without telling us where you're going!" he nearly growls, his arms down at his sides but his hands in tight fists. Regina blinks; she's never seen him like this towards her. But then his anger kicks hers even higher.

"You are not my keeper, thief! I am perfectly capable of going to a cave on my own! Don't you think I can handle anything I would find here?" She is sorely tempted to conjure a fireball in her palm.

"You don't know for sure what things are here anymore. You've been gone for thirty years!" He steps closer yet, his blue eyes like flames. "Despite what you might think, you're not invincible, Regina!"

She grits her teeth and takes a step, almost toe to toe with him now, fury radiating off her in waves.

"How dare you assume that you have any right-"

Suddenly she is yanked back by the Prince, who exclaims, "Whoa, what is going on here! You two look like you're about to start throwing punches! Regina?"

She blinks rapidly, disoriented, and the heat soars even higher. She is stunned to realize that Charming is right, that she was on the verge of slamming a fist into Robin, and the fact that she is thinking of punching him, of _physically_ battling him, when she is more than capable and _much_ more experienced with _magical_ solutions, makes her shake her head. Her eyes widen as something occurs her her, and she gasps loudly, drawing the attention of both the men.

"Regina?" Charming's voice breaks into her thoughts, and she looks up at his concerned face.

"I think I know what it is, David. The heat, the feelings of anger and..." She cuts herself off, leaving the _intense attraction_ unsaid, and looks over at Robin. "You've been feeling that too, is that right?" She directs her question to Robin, who looks less upset but no less flushed, and he nods cautiously. She turns back to the Prince and sighs.

"There's only one thing I can think of. An Ichor spring."

Charming's eyes widen in surprise.

"A Ichor spring? Is that even possible?"

The Queen sighs again while she paces the narrow cave. "That's the only thing that makes any sense." Her eyes find Robin's then David's as she explains, "Yesterday, when you followed me, you found a spring. Robin and I both drank water, and we were the only ones that drank from it. And both of us have the symptoms. The feeling of intense heat, fever, unreasonable anger..." She turns to Robin. "It was a free standing spring?"

He rubs the back of his neck. The heat is beginning to get oppressive, downright stifling, and he pulls the back of his shirt away from his skin. "Aye, its true I didn't see a source..."

Regina snorts in disdain. "You've lived in these forests for how long, thief?"

"I'll admit that I could have been more observant, but how was I supposed to know…"

"You're supposed to think!"

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not well versed in every single thing magical, Your Majesty!"

"Why you…"

"Enough!" Charming calls out, stepping between them before they could continue where they left off before he found them. "Arguing between yourselves is going no good. We need to focus and find a way to fix this." He turns to the Queen.. "Now, Regina maybe it would be best if we went back to camp, get the horses..."

Regina is shaking her head looking very, if there is a word for it, Robin would say, distressed. He knows he's heard of this Ichor fever, but somehow the cure escapes him.

"It's no use. Robin and I will never make the ride back."

His head jerks up at this and he looks between the Prince and the Queen. Both seem to know more about this fever than he. "And why won't we? Is there no cure?" Regina turns away from them with a growl of impatience, and Robin looks over at the Prince. His jaw clenches, and he demands, "Tell me."

Charming takes a breath, looks back over at the Queen, but she still is looking away from them both. He sighs and begins. "As the tales go, men that drink from an Ichor spring become consumed with fever. They call it fever of the Gods, because only the Gods could withstand the power of the dragon blood that fuels an Ichor spring." Charming notes the surprise on Robin's face and nods. "Yes, the wellspring of the water comes up through ground that is soaked in heartsblood of a dragon. Once consumed, the water of an Ichor spring makes the person infected so aggressive that the only cure is to fight or…"

The Prince's voice trails off as he looks back over his shoulder, and Robin follows his line of sight to the Queen, who appears to not be listening. However, Robin can see the tension in her shoulders and the tightness of her lips, and knows that she hears every word. Then suddenly he remembers the tales, ones told by Will Scarlet and some of his men around camp fires, and he swallows hard. Charming continues, lowering his voice even more, and voices Robin's fears. " Or to mate."

Robin swallows hard, and the Queen turns back to them with a sigh.

"David," she says, low and tight. The Prince goes to her, and she throws a quick glance Robin's way before continuing. "In my supply room at the castle, there's a packet of herbs. It's been enchanted; it should be able to put us in a deep sleep long enough for Blue to try and get the Ichor to move through our systems. It's the only thing that might help." She describes the packet to Charming, what it looks like and where it is, and the Prince nods, heading out towards his horse at a run. Robin watches him go and turns back to ask the Queen something. His eyes dart around. She is not there.

A while ago he had been looking for a simple plant, and now… now the Queen is gone. He moves away from the mouth of the cave, turning his back on the departing Prince in search for her. A hundred possibilities taunt him. If she is in the same state of mind as he, she isn't thinking clearly, and anything can happen to her in this dark cavern. He races along the path without realizing that he is holding his breath until he spots her, and the air escapes from his lungs in a rush. She barely throws him a glance as she peruses the ground.

"Your Majesty, there must be another way. Some potion or spell you can try now?" The familiar urge to pull her into his arms barely registers as he automatically pushes it away.

Her laugh is mechanical and borders on hysteric, and she mocks, "A potion? A spell? Do you think if it were as simple as that I wouldn't have done it by now?" She turns away from him, and to his astonishment, continues to look around for the ivy.

He walks over to her. "The ivy can wait. We need to figure out what we are to do." She continues to walk along, scanning the walls of the cave, ignoring him. He takes a breath, and reaches for her. "Regina." He takes a hold of her arm. "Please, talk to me."

She sways towards him. Her breath quickens and her hand makes its way slowly through the air between them to land on his chest. "There is only two ways to cure this, Robin," she says, in a low voice. "What I sent David to get is not a cure-it's a postponement, and then only if he gets back in time." She shakes her head. "He already told you the cure."

"Let's just sit down and think about this for a moment," he suggests, because thinking about the cure does things to him, and with her hand on his chest, her close proximity, he doesn't trust himself not to take her in his arms and cure them both right this very moment.

* * *

He sits but she does not, and stands with her arms folded. Robin looks at her and bites back a moan. Her folded arms are pushing her soft breasts into prominence, and he feels the heat in him cycle higher. He shakes his head, he's always been attracted to the Queen, but knowing that it is the fever causing the constant thoughts of her to play out in his mind feels wrong somehow, but it's these thoughts or giving into the anger, and quite frankly, he'd rather have thoughts of his lips on her skin then the alternative.

Regina sighs, has him lifting his head to look at her when she tells him, "I honestly don't see that we can do anything else, Robin. The second type of cure is something that I'm sure we can both do and even enjoy. So… let's get to it." With a determined look on her face, she starts walking towards him, and Robin scrambles up in alarm.

"Are you out of your mind?" he asks, backing up against wall as she inches toward him.

She chuckles, a low deep chuckle that has the hair on the back of his neck standing up. "I don't understand the problem here. I've seen you look at me. Tell me you haven't thought about it, thief." She inching towards him with every word, and she pauses but a breath away before his thinks she's about to kiss him, adding, "Tell me you haven't imagined my lips on your lips," another pause as she runs her hand up his chest, where he can feel the heat of her hand though the material of his shirt. He stifles a groan when her hand continues up and up until her fingertips are tracing patterns on his neck, and her voice lowers,"My hands on your skin…"

Their foreheads meet, and Gods above, he _wants_ her, he thinks. He has never wanted anything so much in his whole life, and his hands find purchase on her hips, his fingertips squeezing there, holding her back or himself, he isn't sure, only knows he cannot give in. He mustn't. Not here. Not now. But her smell is in his nose, and then it's her voice, soft and warm in his ear, and he feels her words as much as he hears them, "My tongue on your…"

He feels the tip of her tongue on his earlobe and he loses it. "Alright, stop!" He moves away from her, to the other side of the cave and he thinks it's still not far enough. He closes his eyes and swallows. The images shes conjured are far, far too tempting. He can feel his desire for her spiking at the very thought, and the fever already so consuming burning him even more. "Please," he begs, a whisper. He's not even sure she's heard him until he hears her let out an irritated growl.

"You know, I don't understand you. You look at me, but when it comes down to it, when your life depends on it, you won't touch me." He hears her sigh from across the room. When she speaks again her voice is low and defeated, so much so that it has him opening his eyes and turning towards her. She's looking outside where the heavens have finally opened and it is pouring rain, and she asks, "Am I so terrible, so… _evil_ , that even _you_ won't touch me?"

Her statement has thrown him completely. There's something in the way she says it, _even_ _ **you**_ _won't touch me_ , that makes him think there is something more to it. He knows her earlier history; the years trapped in the first curse left him with copious amounts of time on his hands, and an insatiable curiosity as to how the Evil Queen became how she was. He is well aware that most evils are made, not born, and over the years he'd gleaned the facts about a young woman made Queen to suit the fancy of a Princess. He knows what any man, King Leopold being no exception, would do with a young nubile bride, and he thinks that had much to do with her anger. Not all, no, but much, and he wonders how many times she's been desired for her beauty and nothing deeper, told that she was wanted _despite_ her failings and not for who she really is.

Indignation rises up in him and something fierce burns inside his chest that he's sure has nothing to do with his current condition. His head shakes and he takes a step towards her and then another until he's standing right in front of her, and as he reaches her he takes her face in his hands, tilting it gently, urging her to meet his gaze. Once those lovely dark eyes are on his, he is overcome with the need to assure her, to make her know that is it not her crimes, not her past, that makes him resist, but his overwhelming love for her and his respect for how much she has changed, how hard she has worked to shed the mistakes of her past, and his understanding of her deep, abiding love for her son.

"Regina, you must know…" he pauses, can't think of a way to form the words without confessing his feelings for her. She's not ready for that, he's sure she's not, and he wants to coax her into taking a chance on him, them, not scare her away. "You are not that person anymore, and I'll never judge you for your past. Surely you know that?"

"Then why?"

"I just can't. Not like this."

"What do you mean?"

"I…" he blinks at her. He cannot lie to her, doesn't want to, but the repercussions… If she didn't feel the same it could make things very awkward for them. He takes a breath, decides to use honestly to his advantage. "You're right, Your Majesty, I have been watching you. From the moment I met you I feared you'd placed a spell upon me because I felt it here." He takes her hand and places it on his chest, where he assumes she can feel his heart pounding beneath it. "And it's not just your beauty, though you are incredibly stunning… I cannot explain it, but all I know is that you are in my thoughts always, and nothing you've ever done could ever change the way I feel about you."

Her look softens, turns curious. "How do you feel?"

"I care about you enough to not to let this, us, come to pass like this."

She makes a sound of frustration. "Don't you understand? If we don't do this we will die."

"No, the Prince will return with the antidote…"

She shakes her head. "You heard me, Robin, it's not an antidote, it's a stop-gap measure. And you and I both know even if he doesn't stop to rest it will take him another two days to go there and back."

"We'll wait…"

"We don't have two days, Robin!" She closes her eyes briefly and opens them to stare into his. "The fever will kill us both in little more than a day unless we do something."

* * *

The firmness of his muscles distracts her from the gravity of her pronouncement. She can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt and she wants more than anything to rid him of the garment so she can slide her fingertips over his bare skin. The scent of his warm body draws her closer and closer still, and she stares up at the beautiful lower lip that he bites down on, the one that seems to invite her to nibble and taste…

"Regina," he says, attempting to lift her from the haze that surrounds her mind. "You need to listen to me."

"Robin," she replies in a breathy whisper, and she stretches up to her tiptoes to nip at his jaw.

"Regina." He catches her by her shoulders and holds her at arm's length. "We must try and fight this, just a while longer."

"I'm tired of fighting this." She steps close again, rubs the length of her body catlike against his, sliding her fingers up and into his soft hair.

His eyes close of their own volition. "The Prince will be back..."

Her breasts ache as they press against him. She can feel him hard against her stomach as she rubs herself on his thigh. She takes a nip at his neck, feeling his near-silent moan vibrate in his chest. "He won't. Not in time, and I know you're tired of fighting this too, Robin." She slides her hand down the front of his trousers and palms him. He's fully hard now, and she smiles widely as a groan spills from his lips.

"Regina." He grabs her wrist, and adds, "I… I can't."

"But I thought..." Her lips part in confusion, and she flushes deeper. So she's been wrong about how she thinks he looks at her. Her words trail off and she fights to keep her emotions from betraying her. She pushes herself away from him. So her soul mate doesn't want her. Well, she had news for him; he wasn't the only attractive man in this realm. Shame immediately washes through her. It is Robin that she wants, not some nameless other man, and now to think that he doesn't return her feelings, that he would rather them both die than to be with her when she had always been so sure that he did… the thought is killing her.

* * *

The hurt flashes in her eyes before she turns away and goes deeper into the cave. He takes after her, desperate to make her understand that it is the _situation_ and not her, never _her_ , that he is rejecting.

She glances back at him as he catches up. Her face is still flushed a deep crimson. He clears his throat, almost stammering as he begins. "I'm sorry. I don't mean I do not want you..."

"Save it, Robin. I don't want to hear it."

"Regina, listen to me. Neither of us are thinking clearly, and I don't want… damn. I never wished it to happen like this." Unshed tears shimmer in her eyes. He takes his hands and cups her head so his fingers can tangle in her hair. "There is nothing I want more in this life than to make love with you, Regina."

She is silent for a moment, staring up at him, conflicting emotions on her face. It was a struggle to remember that the desire in her eyes wasn't real.

"When I touch you -" Words fail him for a moment and then he begins once again. "You are my Queen. I have nothing but the greatest respect for you. You saved my son, and I care deeply for you. More than a man of my position should care for his Queen."

"Robin, I - "

"I know." The urge to kiss her lips is strong and intense, and he resists, fights the fever with all strength he possesses, and instead places his lips against her brow and mutters, "It should mean something."

* * *

This... _thing_...between them is becoming more and more complicated the more they continue talking, and they will need to deal with it soon, she knows that, but her body has other concerns at the moment. It wants Robin. She glances around. They are alone, in a private space, with every cell in her body -and as much as he likes to ignore it- in his body, burning with desire. All she can think of is how much she wants to kiss him. To peel his clothes from his body, to feel him deep inside her.

Right now, all of the reasons for waiting seem irrelevant. The throbbing between her legs draws her urgent attention. They stand staring into one another's eyes for a long moment. Those lips - if she just stretched up a little bit…

"Robin..." It's not fair to him, to _them_ , but she needs him. If she could just find a way to make him understand she feels the same as he. Show him just how much she cares for him. Her thumb traces his lips, and her eyes look up to met his. "Can we just be together and figure the rest out later?"


	2. Chapter 2

Robin struggles for strength, the nearness of her, the feel of her against him, all contributing to a definite assault against his self-control. But he knows they can't just "figure it out later." He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that should he and Regina make love, everything would change. He wouldn't be able to hold anything back from her about how he felt, and he doesn't want the first time together to be stained by the memory of the compulsion they were under. Even though everything in him screams to be with her, and it takes every ounce of willpower he possesses, he again pulls away from her.

Regina looks at him in disbelief, and the heat in her suddenly surges fire-bright with this latest rejection. Desire is replaced by fury, and she feels herself flush so hot that sweat immediately pops out along her hairline, causing the strands of hair around her face to curl slightly. She curls her hands into fists.

"Really!?" she all but shrieks, an image of pummeling him with her fists flaring into her mind. "In spite of everything you've said, the idea of being with me is still not worth your life? Fine then, Robin, let me tell you about the _other_ cure."

She paces in front of him, short sharp steps, anger radiating from her so fiercely that Robin swears he can almost feel the heat of it. But, he thinks, that could be his own fever. He watches the Queen, and wonders if that surge of violence could manifest into a magical assault. However, strangely, he's not afraid _of_ her, but _for_ her. She turns back to face him.

"Fighting. But this is no verbal assault, no spell;, this is a pure physical attack, hands and fists and feet, whatever works. I'm sure you're familiar with that, _thief_ ," she snarls at him. "In order to lower the fever, we would have to fight. You would have to hit me so hard that blood runs down my chin, hard enough to crack my cheekbone and break my ribs, beat me until I couldn't _move_ , until I am a bloody pulp near _death_!"

She yells this last word at him, and Robin flinches. Every word she has said is building an image in his horrified mind, an image of his Queen, his Regina, hurt and cut and bleeding, sobbing and in pain….and all because of him. His chest feels tight, so tight, and his throat constricts. He could never….never do that to her….never hurt her like that. No matter what. His mouth is suddenly bone-dry.

"Regina, no, stop, I wouldn't, I _can't_ -" he chokes out, but she interrupts him and continues, undeterred.

"And I would have to try and do the same to you," she whispers, her eyes wide and still so angry, but with a sheen of tears filling them. Her jaw clenches.

"I would have to do the same to you!" she cries out, and Robin can hear the horror in her own voice, understands that she is picturing the same thing, and it is as terrifying to her as it is to him. Her eyes flash to his, and she is trembling. Tears suddenly spill over and rush down her cheeks. "Because it is only then, when release has come, that the spell breaks. It is the only way, and you… you would make me do the same to you rather than be with me. You would let us _die_ rather than make love to me!"

Her voice is an agonized wail, and without warning she launches herself at him, starts to hit and claw at him, managing to get in a few good blows to his arms and chest before he has time to react. She is crying as she hits him, but doesn't stop. He tries to grab her hands without hurting her, avoiding her feet as she kicks at him. He begs her, pleads her, to stop.

"This is what you wanted!" she screams, struggling against him. "You don't want me, you _don't_ , so you must want _this_!"

"Gods, no, Regina, how could you think that!?" he cries out, finally managing to grab both her hands, trying to hold her against him, to reassure her, to calm her down. Her skin is a fearful heat against him, and he is worried beyond belief. She is strong, so very strong, but still so fragile, delicate under the armor of the image of the Queen, and Robin knows her body can't take much more. She finally sags against him, gasping, tears still falling down her face.

"How could I think otherwise?" she whispers brokenly, and his heart clenches painfully at her words.

He stares at her. She's flushed, her breathing as hard as his, staring back at him with both desire and guilt in her eyes. He would do anything for her, wouldn't he? If he did this with her though, she could very well hate him for it later. "I _do_ want you," he declares to her, consequences be damned. He needs her to know that at least, so she'll understand. "I have wanted you from the moment I first saw you."

"I _need_ you, Robin," she whispers, swallows. Struggles to stay on her feet, but she is growing weaker and he has to keep his hands on her arms to support her, and then she says the words that break him. "This will be fatal if the potion doesn't work."

"It will work," he tells her gently, tries to be soothing, but the thought of losing her chills him to the bone. He will not let that happen, he will die before he'd let that happen, but there has to be another way. Another way than them taking that intimate step that will forever change things between them. He closes his eyes for a moment and clenches his jaw.

"Nothing has to change if you don't want it to," she says it softly, the words halting and uncertain. "It can just be this once."

"I won't let us die, Regina." He says her name, and she loves it. Loves the way it falls from his lips, it's like a caress, like he knows who she is beneath the darkness, though she's never really allowed him to see that part of her. Not really. He begins again, "I just - you're the Queen, and I'm..." She inhales, knows what he means. The title she's held between them keeping him in his place and her in hers. "I don't think I could give you up once I've had you. I don't think you understand how much I truly care for you, milady. Let's give the Prince a chance to get back to us before we do anything we might regret later."

"I just don't know how long I can hold out," she says, and she's not sure if she means the fever or keeping the distance between them. There are beads of sweat on her forehead. She closes her eyes and bites her lip. Shudders run through her, and she remembers reading about fevers once, in Storybrooke, when Henry was very small and sick with a temperature of 102. Remembers that prolonged fevers can cause convulsions, damaging convulsions, and she feels she is very near that state herself.

Robin presses his forehead to hers. Her fever has climbed, judging by the scorching temperature of her skin against his, and if _hers_ is any indication of _his,_ he knows he is not faring any better, doesn't need a healer to know it is approaching dangerous levels. He cups her cheeks in his palms, tilts her head up so he can look into her eyes, and makes the only suggestion that seems sensible. "Maybe we could go out and stand in the rain?"

She dosen't know whether to be grateful for or amused by his suggestion. She tries to nod her consent, but he is already moving them toward the mouth of the cave.

Be realistic, she tells herself. The rain will be cool, it will bring down the fever instead of allowing it to climb. It's sensible, and she know it, but it's not what she wants. Not what her body is crying out for. Robin doesn't think she understands his feelings but she does. She feels them too, so much so that the intensity of her feelings frighten her. She's fought her attraction to him since the day they met, and her feelings for him for almost as long. She may be the Queen and he may be just a thief, but she loves him. Titles and nobility be damned; she couldn't care less. Perhaps there was something to what he'd been saying? He wants her but not like this. He wants to be with her because they _want_ it, not because they _need_ it.

As they set foot out into deluge, she tries to relax. Leans back against him, as he leans against the mouth of the cave, and closes her eyes. The cool water hits her face, and she thinks this is it, this will help, but she can feel her fever. She can feel it in her veins, in her blood, mocking the chill of the rain. This is a _magical_ fever, after all, and is not going to respond normally to what _should_ work. Regina lifts her face, and her nose drags across his jaw, the stubble of his beard sending shivers down her spine. His hands that were once clenched at his side are now on her, on her sides, she can feel the weight of them right below her breasts. Something is different, she feels it in the way he's now breathing against her neck.

They are both breathing heavily, her eyes close as she feels his hands move down, over her hips, where he grasps them, and she lets out a gasp of surprise as he pulls her back against him. He lets out a groan in time with hers as she feels him against her. He's hard, pressing into her lower back, and she catches her bottom lip with her teeth, sighs a breathy, " _Robin."_

One of his hands releases its hold, and her eyes widen as she feels him slide his hand into the waistband of her pants. Her breath quickens, as he places a wet kiss on her neck; his hot lips are wonderful contrast to the cool rain falling against her skin, and then his voice is low and rough, almost strained in her ear when he tells her, "What if we tried to do this another way..."

His hand slides down, at her enthusiastic nod, and the moan she releases would be embarrassing if she knew he isn't just as affected by this as she. His rough fingertips are on her clit, rubbing in tight circles, and she is in heaven and hell all at once. She doesn't care that they are standing out in the middle of the forest, she doesn't care if anyone hears them, all she cares about is _him_ , and that he never stops touching her. She sinks her teeth into her lip and her breath hitches again, as she reaches back blindly and threads her fingers into his hair, and breathes, "I don't care what way we do it, as long as you fuck me."

* * *

 ** _Worth the wait I hope. ;) The part I know you all are waiting for is coming next._**


	3. Chapter 3

She's seriously misjudged him, Regina thinks, as her head thuds back against his shoulder, and heat like she's never known courses through her body as his fingers move against her and then deliciously inside her, and his other hand moves from her hip to her breast and palms her through her corset.

Robin's mouth is against her neck, and it makes its way up to her ear with nipping wet kisses, and he tells her, "I will bed you soon enough, Regina, but not before I taste you. Not before I make sure you are mine."

Regina lifts her chin and she studies him as well as she can with her body throbbing with heat and pleasure. His mouth, that handsome mouth, is quirked up in a half smile, and his eyes are boring into her own, his pupils dilated so much that the normal warm blue of his eyes is only a thin ring. His hand finds its way inside her shirt, worms beneath the rigid corset, and his fingers brush against her nipple. She gasps right before his mouth covers hers and he swallows her cries.

She pulls back, breathless, and manages a weak, "Yours?" and then lets out a stifled broken sob as his finger flicks over her clit once, twice, another time before moving slowly through her wetness, teasing her, drawing her out, not letting her come, but she wants to, God, she's right on the very edge, and she whimpers, "Robin, please."

He groans into her neck, her name escaping his lips, and it's a short, dry rasp. He's just as affected by this as she, only he knows he hold all the cards. _That smug bastard_ , she thinks, right before he adds another finger to thrust inside her, and conscious thought deserts her as her hips arch against him. "Tell me," he says.

Regina's fingers lift to thread into his hair at his neck and she clutches tightly, causing him to hiss and thrust into her roughly. "What do you want me to say?" she asks. She'll tell him anything he wants just to be able to come, just to feel herself clutching around him, and just when she thinks she might from his fingers alone, his hand on her breast falls away, and soon so does the hand that's inside her. She begins to protest before she realizes he is now tugging her tight leather pants slowly down her hips.

His breathing is erratic. "Say that after all this, you'll be mine."

She then becomes aware of what he is asking. It's there in the clenched fists at her now bare hips, there in his stance, in the tension that radiates from him. It's how he's been holding back for her. He wants her. _Her_. And not just to bed, to conquer the Queen, not just to steal pleasure for one night. He wants... _all_ of her. And her mouth goes suddenly dry at the realization.

She can feel him pressing into her from behind; even through his clothes she can feel his hardness and the heat from him. "They'll judge you for this," she challenges desperately, finally says the thing that's been holding _her_ back because it's one thing to be known for fucking the Queen and quite another to be in love with her. The first is almost to be expected, given her (not altogether true) reputation in the Enchanted Forest, but the second...oh, the second is unheard of, and certainly quite, _quite_ dangerous for Robin. Wanting to bed a beautiful woman is understandable, even if she _is_ a monster, but who understands _loving_ that monster? Surely Robin's position with his men would suffer for that.

He is nimbly untying the laces of her corset, when he pauses and tells her, "Honestly, my love, I don't give a damn what anyone thinks."

Suddenly, before she knows it, she is the one with her back against the rock, the space between them is gone, and she is pressed against him, chest to breast. His face comes down to nuzzle into her wet hair, and his hot breath both warms her and makes her shiver. "This is about us, _Regina_." His fingers tilt her chin and his lips moved over her face, brushing, caressing, until they rest over her lips.

And then he is kissing her, and she realizes that yes, he is what she wants. Now that she knows what he tastes like, how those full lips move over hers, and how hot he feels when he is pressed up against her, she's never letting him go. And all at once, the fire is back, the burning is rising up, and it is that heat that has her wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, letting him deepen the kiss so that her lips tremble beneath his, as his tongue plunders her mouth, much as his hands are already mapping her body.

Anticipation hovers in the pounding of her blood, in the taste of him lingering on her lips. _I want him_ , she thinks, and parts of her are thrumming and liquid in anticipation, in a way that has seldom happened to her before. No one has ever stirred this urgency, this heady, all-consuming desire for another in her. Never has she wanted to feel anyone inside her so desperately as the way that she wants Robin. She doesn't know how she'll take her next breath without his lips on hers.

"I've always been yours," she tells him, because it's true. It's the knowledge from pixie dust and a lion tattoo that told her this initially, but it's more than just a glimpse of inked skin glowing green. It's because this, _this_ is what a soul mate feels like, consuming spring be damned; she knew that this was how it would be even without a hellish fever engulfing them.

He growls into her skin, and his lips are on her neck hard and fierce. She knows she'll have bruises, but she can heal them later; right now she wants his hands and tongue on her skin, wants him to caress her body with skill, with passion, and yes, with tenderness. It can be about more than sex later, love will inevitably steal in like the morning mist, but not now. Now is about lust and the fever running through them so they might live to do this from this day forward.

Deliberately, she pushes him back. The momentary confusion in his eyes is replaced by heat as her fingers move to the laces of her shirt, expertly undoing the strings until it is left hanging open, and with lust-filled eyes he leans down and captures a nipple between his teeth, while his hand palms her other breast, squeezing, fondling, driving her insane with want. She tries to shrug out of her pants, but her heeled boots are making it an impossible feat when she can barely think about anything other than Robin's lips. With a wave of her hands her clothes disappear in a deliberate cloud of magic.

The fire in her blood won't let her wait a moment longer; she wants completion, and just as she is about to tell him so, Robin falls to his knees, pressing his face to her belly, placing kisses there, muttering something about _beautiful_ , and _stunning_.

Impatiently, she raises her leg and hooks it over his shoulder, opening herself up to him, urging him to her, and his fingers are there on her thighs, the cool air and the rain that hits her and runs down her body making her tremble from the contrast to the fever within her, her exposed sex ridiculously wet with arousal. She threads her fingers through his hair, clutches, pulls him to her, and he chuckles. It's deep and proud, and _oh fuck_ , so hot, as he teases, "Do you want something, my love?"

He looks up at her, and grins. Making a frustrated sound, she debates hitting him, and then the hand not clutching her thigh on his shoulder is rising, and then it's there between her legs and _oh_ , inside her, thumping in and out of her wetness. His gutteral moans match time with hers. His forehead falls to her belly, as he murmurs "you're so damn _wet_ " into the soft smooth skin, and then his mouth is between her thighs. With petting licks he works his tongue into her sex, sweeping around, then back up against her clit, caressing her hard, and it's fierce and direct, but it doesn't matter that it's hard or slow because instantly, she is coming, his fast flicks pushing her up and up, over the cliff as he begins to suck at her. Her knees are trembling underneath her and her body is shaking with the intense, blinding sensation as her hands scrabble to hold onto his broad shoulders, a low moan tumbling from her lips.

Even when the waves recede into small spasms of pleasure, it isn't over. Robin stays between her thighs, his tongue idly exploring her, softer and more gentle now in contrast to the fierce friction of the moment before. He notices when she flinches, where she was too sensitive, and he concentrates, appreciating her with his fingers instead of his mouth, sliding two in and out of her in a slow and steady movement, while he presses kisses to the insides of her thighs.

She thinks she should stop him, pull him to his feet and take him into her mouth, but the deliciousness of his face between her legs is too good to stop, and Robin seems to take a genuine hunger in what he is doing, and that thought alone is arousing her more than she can believe. She breathes his name, encouraging him with her fingers in his hair, and her hips thrusting against his hand. Regina looks down, watches as he licks at her, and when his eyes meet hers, when his tongue starts circling her clit again, adding a third finger gently into her sodden heat, she gives herself up to the moment. Reveling in his tongue and fingers, her head falls back against the hard rock and soon she is coming for a second time, harder, more intense, the waves lasting longer and deeper within her belly. She chokes out his name again, and her fingernails digging into his shoulders must hurt some, but he doesn't utter a word of complaint.

He groans instead, and withdraws with a playful nip to her inner thigh before he lets her leg fall back to the ground. Pushing himself to his feet, he moves her damp hair out of her eyes, and he kisses her, a deep kiss that tastes more of herself than of him but she doesn't care.

He pulls away and tells her, "I want you."

"Later," she replies, and kisses him hard.

His hands are in her hair, clutching at the wet mess. She wants to return the pleasure he has given her, wants for him to experience the release she enjoyed. Dropping to her knees, she fumbles with the ties of his pants, and he inhales sharply, and his hands come down again to tangle in her hair.

Freeing him and palming his cock, she finds he is already leaking in anticipation. Her fingers stroke over his length, learning the silken contours, and upon touching her lips to his tip, a rush of power courses through her from his startled reaction, his hips thrusting towards her involuntarily.

"Regina," he breaths, "please," and his words turn into a groan of relief and pleasure when she takes him in her mouth. His hands tighten in her hair, holding her there for a moment, as he takes gulps of air, and then his fingers loosen as she starts to move slowly over him. He's vocal, oh so very vocal, breathing her name through strangled gasps, and his jaw clenches on moans of bitten back pleasure. His hands guide her head and tighten in her hair when she does something he likes. Glancing up through her lashes, she can see him, head tilted down, eyes half closed, mouth slightly open, and breathing hard. It is patently obvious that he likes this, likes her on her knees for him, but it is different than any other times before. Regina knows, _knows_ , in the gentleness even as he grips her hair, in the look in his eyes, that he likes this because it is _her_ , not just because she is on her knees.

"Regina," he says, hoarsely, and his hips reflect the urgency in his voice, his hands trembling in her hair a subtle sign that he's trying to hold back even as his involuntary thrust shows clearly how close he is. "Regina, I want to come inside you."

She eases back off him, and she stands slowly, her eyes never leaving his, and he pulls her against him. She must be a mess, she thinks, drenched from the rain, her face clean of makeup and her hair in disarray, but he doesn't seem to care. His fingers explore her for a few brief moments. He rubs a finger through her wetness, passing over her clit in one long sweep until she gasps, clutching at his shoulders, the longing for him to fill her welling up once again. He is rock hard, his length throbbing against her belly. Leaning down he places kisses to her breasts, circling her nipples with his tongue, biting gently, eagerly, enough to give pleasure but not enough to push over the edge to pain.

Picking her up, he moves them to the grassy area beside the cave. Carefully falling to his knees while holding her to him, he then lies down on his back, and encourages her to straddle him. With him beneath her, she sits on his thighs, her hands resting on his chest. Rising up, she grasps him, shuffling forward so that the tip of him brushes against her clit. She teases herself, teasing _him_ by sliding his tip through her slick swollen folds, before she sinks down, taking him inside her in one fluid movement.

It's been awhile since she'd last had sex, and Robin is thick and just about more than average, and he fills her completely, stretching those tender unused muscles. Her moan and the faint look of discomfort on her face makes him freeze. He gives her time to adjust, feeling her walls flutter around him, as she shifts on him until she finally sighs and her face fills with nothing but pleasure. He smiles and strokes her thighs for a moment, but the fever inside of him won't let him be still any longer, and he thrusts up into her, making her gasp his name, joining them more and filling her to the hilt.

Looking down along their bodies, she starts to move, rising and falling on his cock, taking him all the way in. Her eyes close, relishing in the sensation of him, and she jerks like a live wire at the feeling of his thumb on her clit once more. He knows just how to touch her. She wants to see him, wants to see his face when _he_ tips over the edge, so she opens her eyes and finds he is watching her, his intense blue eyes shining in the setting sun.

His hands grip her hips, and he holds her tightly. Though she might normally be in control, it is him that is setting the pace, the movement and direction coming from him, and each powerful thrust, each swelling movement of his cock, brings her closer and closer to an edge she wasn't sure she could reach again.

As she closes in on her climax, his tattoo comes into view, and a thought fills her mind. Robin is _hers_. Her soul mate. After all this time and all the mistakes, they found each other, and she is _his_ and he is _hers_ , and there is nothing more right in the world than that. And then she is coming hard, clenching around him, crying out his name, and she stills his fingers. It's enough to just feel him inside her and his urgent movements; anything more would be too much. Soon he is coming too, his teeth biting into that lower lip, and his eyes lock on hers as he spills inside her.

Falling forward against his chest, all the urgency gone, the fever abating with every breath, suddenly she feels boneless. His chest is wet beneath her palms as it continues to rain, and she idly caresses it, enjoying how his warm skin feels against her fingers as his hands hold her tightly to him and gently comb through her tangled hair.

They should sleep, she thinks, but not out here. So she lifts herself up, still joined to him, and he is warm inside her. He is looking up at her, smiling, and pulls her back down for a kiss. She smiles and kisses him back.

"This won't be easy for us," she murmurs against his lips.

"No," he agrees, "but we'll find a way. Together." He pulls away from her mouth and gently kisses her cheek.

She sighs and their foreheads meet. "Together," she echos. And as Robin lifts her in his arms, laughing at the shriek she lets out before she gets a grip on his shoulders, and carries her into the cave, she thinks about the word. Together. It is all she has ever wanted, togetherness, closeness, and Robin, _her_ Robin, her soul mate, will do that for her. They'll get through this together.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Gonna warn you guys now, this is not the end of their story. I will be starting a sequel of sorts a bit later. Okay, Enjoy!_

* * *

 _Epilogue..._

Robin's first thought after he woke was about the beautiful queen sleeping soundly next to him. He knew for a fact that Regina had been exhausted of late, staying up until all hours of the evening with the council, plotting and planning to rid them of the Wicked Witch. She'd even gone so far as to wake with his son only hours after she'd gone to bed. He'd argued, told her she was doing too much, that he could take Roland away until she'd had proper rest, but she'd had none of that. She'd kiss him and tell him she was fine, only to lie in bed with Roland speaking of dreams and worlds unfamiliar to him.

He could tell by the way the light was starting to shift from blue to an orange hue that it was still early. She was spooned in front of him, her back to him, her naked body curved into his. Robin thought about Roland and how he'd be up soon banging on the door and waking the woman in his arms. Perhaps he could go talk Little John into keeping the boy with him for the morning. Since their return from the forest a little over four months ago now, they hadn't really had the opportunity to be alone in the mornings. If it wasn't Roland calling on them to rise before the sun, it was something else, and Robin was a bit more than done with this Wicked Witch nonsense, to be honest.

Making up his mind, Robin decided that he'd go fetch his son and send him off to breakfast with John, and along the way find the Princess and tell her that Her Majesty did not wish to be disturbed this morning. He could give a toss what conclusions the young woman came to. Just when he was about to untangle himself from Regina, she shifted in her sleep, her back arching against him as she turned into the softness of the mattress. Robin bit his lip, as her backside slid right against his length. Just the feel of her doing _things_ to him... Bloody hell, he'd never get out of the bed with him laying there thinking about how soft she felt. He lifted his arm from where it was draped over her and scooted backward. She murmured in her sleep and Robin leaned forward to listen.

"Robin," Regina's voice was barely a whisper, but his name was distinct on her lips. And then suddenly she was quiet, her breathing deep and steady.

Robin slid from the sheets into the cold morning air, the bedroom terrace doors had been left open letting the light breeze cool the room as the last remaining traces of fall hung onto the beginnings of the cooler winter months. He shrugged on some pants and a clean shirt, and grabbing his boots he was out the door.

It was a gorgeous morning, the first rays of sun peaking through the glass windows of the castle. There was not a cloud marking the sky, and Robin breathed in deeply. These were the kinds of mornings he lived for. The halls were quiet, still too early for most. Only the wanderings of the staff and keepers of the castle milling here and there disturbed the stillness, and the guards keeping watch - young men that would have once been him chasing through the forest - now greeted him with the title of "Sir."

Yet the morning was somehow peaceful. Everything was still as the sun rose slowly, and the air was cold, yet peaceful. Everything stood as calm as he felt and for that he was grateful. He looked forward to his morning with Regina more and more with each passing step.

He would get Roland to John and go back to the soft bed and sleep for a few more hours with the warm woman in it. She'd still be tangled in the sheets, eyes closed in slumber, all soft skin and tumbled hair. She would be everything he wanted to see and touch in the morning. Then he would wake her with caresses, maybe breathe a whisper of a kiss along her hair, and move his way down to her neck. He'd press gentle kisses till she arched under his touch and came with the feel of his tongue on her.

Damn, he was hard again just thinking about her.

He shook his head, clearing thoughts of his sleeping queen for the moment, and concentrated on getting his son to John and returning to his love as fast as he could.

* * *

When Robin entered the room, he was happy to find that she was still very much asleep. He saw that she had rolled onto her front, both arms underneath her pillow, and the duvet and sheet had slipped off her, covering her only just above the waist. Her bare back was exposed and just a glimpse of her soft breast was peeking out. Robin stripped himself of his clothes and pulled back the blankets, slipping back into bed beside her. He put his hand on her smooth soft skin of her back, and kissed the top of her head lightly. She turned into him automatically, and her eyelids fluttered, half open.

"Robin," she said softly. She smiled, but then those gorgeous lips he loved so much tipped into a slight frown as she looked around the room. "Is Roland awake?"

He smiled down at her, a warmth spreading in his chest for this beautiful woman who held a love for his son as if he were her very own.

"Aye, he is. But I had John watch over him this morning," he told her, leaning down and placing a kiss to her lips. "I've decided that you and I deserve a bit of a lie in this morning."

She yawned and stretched against him, pressing herself further into his side.

Robin groaned, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her close.

Nuzzling his neck, she whispered, "Mmm, I want you."

His eyes looked down at her and she licked her lips. Robin's mouth moved to cover hers. His hands held her lightly and Regina moaned, arching her back. She took his hand to cover her breast.

Robin chuckled. "Impatient, milady?"

Regina smiled against his mouth. "I just want to feel you," she murmured as she kissed his lips. "Hard," and placing another kiss to his neck, lifted slightly to whisper into his ear, "and inside me."

"First I want to taste you," he protested.

However, she shook her head, breathed, " _Next time,"_ and pulled him closer to her. Her wish was his command, and he found the spot on the side of her neck that drove her wild, his tongue lightly stroking the sensitive skin around her ear. She gasped when he bit her earlobe, breathing into her ear. Delicious chills ran down her body.

"Please," she begged, and drew his head to her breast.

Robin's mouth, hot and demanding, covered her dusty pink nipple, his tongue dancing around its sensitive edge, then grasping the peak, tugging slightly. He pulled harder with his teeth. His hand was on her other breast, mimicking the motions of his mouth. With his mouth still focused on her breast, teasing it, licking, nipping, his hand started drifting down her belly. Her center was already gloriously wet and ready for him.

She writhed, gasping under his touch as he focused his attention to her clit, making slow circles, using her wetness to his advantage to tease and draw her out. Her breathing sharpened and quickened, and he knew she was close.

"Don't stop," she murmured, her hands threading up into his hair, clutching and pulling his mouth down to her.

"I won't," he whispered, his mouth now against hers.

He moved over her, her legs swiftly wrapping around his hips, and with one thrust that took both their breaths away, he buried himself inside her. Oh Gods, she was so warm and soft, and wet. No matter how many times they'd done this over the last four months, every time he entered her it was the same incredible feeling. He couldn't concentrate on that though, couldn't think about how fantastic she felt or it would be over before he could get her there. Instead, he focused on her pleasure, thrusting into her slowly and deeply.

"Faster," Regina managed to mutter between gasps of pleasure. She tightened her legs around his backside, holding him firmly in place as his pace quickened. He leaned down, kissing her hard on the mouth, one hand under her backside and the other fondling her breast as he brought her to the brink.

It took only another moment, and again her body tensed around him. He slowed his rhythm to extend the pleasure rippling through her body, watching the reaction on her face. It was in seeking her pleasure that he found his own greatest release and now was no different. Her mouth dropped open with his name on her lips as she came in undulating waves that spiraled around her, around the thickness of him.

Robin moaned, and kissed her neck as he moved in her. "I can't hold back," he managed to say. Her orgasm was pulling him with her as her hips rose to meet his, drawing from him what he had just drawn from her.

His breathing grew faster and he gasped, clutching her tightly. In the last moment, when their movements were hard, and slick, and urgent, her hands palmed his face. Robin opened his eyes to find her looking up at him.

"Regina, I love you," he breathed.

"I love you," she whispered back, and in that moment, that few seconds of falling into her eyes, as he came, were as intimate as anything he'd ever experienced.

Collapsing on the bed beside her afterwards, he let his fingers trail into her hair, turning towards her and bringing his brow to hers. They didn't speak for a while, but soon a yawn escaped Regina, and he chuckled before tilting his head to place a kiss on her neck. Regina looked up at him, an instant blush settling over her cheeks. Robin quickly covered her lips with his own, not wanting her to feel the least bit sorry for being so vulnerable with him. It was something she struggled with as of late, and slowly, ever so slowly, she was beginning to show him the woman beneath the Queen.

When he pulled away she was smiling. "That was one of your _better_ ideas," she sighed contentedly, stretching her legs and arms as she spoke before turning towards him and trailing her hand over his shoulder and down his back. He bit his lip and pulled her more fully against him.

He chuckled. "Praise, indeed. I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should," she teased, hooking her leg over his hip. "As it so rarely happens."

Robin's grew wide at her jest. "Oh ho, is that so?"

"Shut up and kiss me thief," she whispered, before she rose her head to meet his lips halfway. They lay there like that for a bit, Robin sharing languid kisses while each absentmindedly stroked the other's back.

Soon Robin began to feel himself stir for her once again. Rolling them slightly, with Regina on her back, he began to kiss a path down her neck, past her collarbone and down to her breasts. His attention to them made her sigh his name. His hand again began to descend between them; however, this time he stopped as his palm slid over her belly.

His lips paused, and his eyes darted down between them. Robin liked to think over the last four months he'd learned every curve but this one… His heart beat wildly in his chest, his fingers ghosting along the small, barely noticeable, yet very real bump. A broken whisper left him. "Regina," he breathed, and he looked up into her eyes which were both tearfully and fearfully staring back at his.

"I'm sorry," Regina whispered, and moved away, reaching for her robe on the end of the bed as she began to rise.

"Regina, where are you going?" Robin said in confusion as he reached for her, his fingers just brushing her hip as she stood. Pulling her robe around her, she crossed her arms around herself, almost protectively, and started to pace. Throwing his legs to the side of the bed, he went after her. Taking her gently by the arm, he pleaded, "Regina, talk to me."

She shook her head, as tears fell unchecked down her cheeks. "I don't know how to explain it. It was never supposed to happen."

Her words hit him full force nearly knocking the breath right from his lungs. A child. She was carrying a child. _Their_ child. His voice was a reverent whisper as he tried to confirm his thoughts. "Are you pregnant?"

Only then did she turn to him, and the look she gave him sent a thousand arrows straight to his heart. "I don't… I _can't_ be, Robin."

Confusion vied for dominance over the hope that was beginning to fill him. Did she not think she could have children? In all the years she'd been with the King she never once produced an heir. Though she still kept the specifics of her farce of a marriage to the King from him, he suspected she had ways of preventing conception, and the King himself had not been a young man, with Snow White his only child in the entire time he'd been married to his first wife. Still, Robin was no stranger to pregnancy. He could remember how tired Marian had been while carrying Roland, and though she had not been as sickly as Marian, thinking about it now, Regina's appetite as of late had diminished. Reaching for her once again, she finally acquiesced and let him pull her to him. His brow creased in a puzzled frown and he told her, "I don't understand."

"I cursed myself," she replied, regret and anger coloring her tone. "My mother came back from Wonderland, claiming she wanted me to be happy. Said she would find my soul mate." She looked away from him. He knew about the tale of pixie dust pointing to true love and a fairy named Tinkerbell that once led her to him of course, but this she'd never spoken of. "I didn't trust her, and when I found out she wanted me to have a... child…" She whispered, the tears beginning to fall anew and when she looked up at him the sadness that had replaced the anger had him taking her face in his hands right before she collapsed against his chest. With his arms around her he held her as she shook with silent sobs.

Finally she pulled back and shakily reached up to pull her long hair behind her ears, and took in a deep shuddering breath. Wiping away her tears, she cleared her throat, and with her voice devoid of emotion, told him, "I made a potion, and it took away my ability to ever become pregnant." She licked her lips. "I thought it was worth it at the time."

Swallowing, Robin took a breath. He could deal with this new revelation; they had Roland, and he was certain they would get back to Regina's Henry, but then that didn't make any sense why… "But then, Regina…" he stumbled, then licking his lips started again, "tell me how is _this_ possible?"

His hands dropped between them, and taking the sash of her robe and untying it, he parted the material. Taking her hands in his he brought them to the small curve he'd felt only moments before. Her eyes locked on his as he gently guided her hands along the gentle swell, and brimmed with tears once again. Her carefully composed mask of the Queen slipped away right before she murmured, "I don't know."

Robin was never a man to believe in miracles. However, in this moment, he wanted to believe with every fiber of his being. Asking the question once more to be sure, he implored gently, "My love, are you pregnant?"

He felt as her hands shook in his as they finally relaxed, fingers splaying out further against her stomach. As her hands and his passed tentatively again over the small but distinct curve that was never there before, Robin cursed himself for not noticing it sooner. They've been together every night since the spring, and perhaps maybe if he would have been more observant, he could have prevented the fear her could see in her eyes now. Deep dark eyes looked back at him, not daring to believe it, yet filling with hope with every passing moment.

Tears falling, she whispered, "I think so."

His hands came up to take her face gently in his palms, and with his thumbs caressing her cheeks, he asked, "What do we do now?"

Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. "Now I suppose, we find out for sure."

* * *

"How long before we know?" Robin's voice asked curiously.

Regina's eyes left the vial she was holding up to the light long enough to flick to his and then back. Portions of this sort were never something she'd ever had to bother with, and why would she? Swallowing the taste of bitterness she suddenly felt, she answered, "Not long. I just need to add one more thing."

He got to his feet from where he'd been sitting on the end of the bed and came to stand beside her. His eyes widened a bit, as he watched her reach over, picking up a small dagger lying on the table top beside her. "What's that for?"

She let a small smirk pull up her lips at the look of hesitation on his face. "I need a drop of blood," she told him, handing him the vial that held the clear potion. "My blood."

With the dagger in hand, she took a breath, before sticking the tip of her finger with the sharp edge. A hiss left her lips, and he inhaled loudly through his nose, his lips pursed to holding himself back from commenting. She didn't like to be coddled, he knew that about her, but his concern from her still got the better of him from time to time, and she made sure to give him a soft smile of assurance that she was alright.

Her bright red blood glistened on the tip of the steel blade, and fear began to fill her. At the moment, she'd give just about anything to be back in Storybrooke. Back with her son, and modern medicine. If this… _test_ … turned out to be what she thought it would, well… No, she couldn't worry about that yet, she thought. She needed to find out _how_ this happened before she let herself believe it was possible. She wouldn't open her heart only to have disappointment waiting for her on the side. She had had far too much of that over the years, and while any other time she would have been over the moon to be pregnant with her soul mate's child, she still couldn't help but think how badly this would end.

As the blood dripped from the end, the touch of Robin's hand to her elbow snapped her from her thoughts.

"Regina?"

Licking her lips, she focused on her task. Bringing the dagger to hold over the vial, she slowly dipped the end into the liquid and waited. She didn't have to wait long; the once clear liquid swiftly turned a soft glowing blue, and her eyes found Robin's as the air from her lungs left her. She felt like the ground dropped out from under her as her head swam. Thoughts, doubts, hope... all those emotions along with a storm of other hit her all at once. Tears began to sting at her eyes, and she was helpless to stop them. They had their answer.

She was pregnant.

"You don't have to say it," he began, his eyes never wavering from hers. "I can see it in your eyes, but why do you look so frightened by it? Isn't this a good thing…" he broke off, pausing to take a breath before adding, "or do you not want-"

Taking her hand she placed it against his lips, stopping him from finishing his thought because it wasn't true. "Please, Robin do not think it's not what I want because of course it is." He took her hand from his lips in his and placed a kiss to her palm. For a moment she let herself sink into the feel of him on her skin, and drew comfort from that. "I cursed myself. Curses don't break just like that, at least, they're not supposed to. I need to find out how this happened first. I need to find out...if it means something worse than the curse."

Placing the vial holding the proof of their love down in the case that held it before, he asked, "Is it that important that we know how it happened and not just be satisfied that it did? Regina, surely a baby cannot so terrible."

"And what if it's because of magic? What if I lose this child because I didn't know more?" She took a shuddering breath, and finished, "I won't risk it."

Robin's jaw tightened. He would not risk their child either, or Regina's state of mind, for that matter. "Alright, tell me what you need."

* * *

Books lay strewn across her bed and her vanity, some fallen open on the ground left to be ignored in her search for answers, some marked for a further look. Regina had never studied dragon magic, let alone the magic of old. Magic that came from legends and myths was too intricate and layered for what she had wanted when she was the Queen. There were only few who studied it, only one person she knew for sure, and unfortunately for Regina that person was dead… but then again… Regina turned to Robin and she found him already gazing at her. His brows raised, waiting, as he could see in her face that she had an answer for him.

"What is it?" he asked, setting another book aside.

Subconsciously her hand drifted down to her stomach, and his eyes followed her movements. "I think I know where we can find some answers, but it's not close."

"That doesn't matter to me," Robin began, taking a step toward her with a look of fresh determination in his eyes. "Where are we going?"

"Maleficent's castle."

 _The end._


End file.
